


Perfect Crime

by florallflwrss



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, But He Gets Better, But he is extremely fascinated by the green eyed boy, Frat Boy Harry, Gay, Harry has a slight French accent, Highly homophobic school, I promise, Louis is DEFINITELY and OBVIOUSLY not gay, M/M, Out of the Closet Harry Styles, You might want to slap Louis in the first few chapter, tw homophobia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 21:55:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30028431
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/florallflwrss/pseuds/florallflwrss
Summary: Each touch was warm. Body flushed. Taken over by the scalding fire of hell."What would your perfect crime be?""Being with you."The one where Louis Tomlinson can't speak French, is defininetely not gay and is hopelessly drawn by Harry Styles' green eyes.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson
Kudos: 6





	Perfect Crime

**Author's Note:**

> This story will have many possible triggers like homophobia, slurs and graphic violence, I suggest you not read it (or at least those parts) if you are sensitive to those topics.
> 
> I had this vision while listening to "Take me to church" where Frat boy Harry was out of the closet, had a french accent and was snappy, so, this story was born.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Louis doesn't like Linkin Park. He also can't speak French to save a life. And Harry's eyes have never been greener.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Homophobic slurs

It was 2010, no, no, 2011. Yes, summer, of 2011.

The sun was out, the dew on the grass shone brightly, like small pieces of crushed diamonds had been dropped all over the city.

Louis' eyes were trained on the sky, admiring it, doubting it, wondering how on earth did dead people get there. He'd probably never end up there, anyway, so he stopped himself from dwelling on that too much.

Earbuds deep in his ear, blasting a random track off of one of Linkin Park's albums his best friend insisted that he listened to before judging the band. Guess what? Louis had listened to a total of 5 tracks and he had made up his mind: He did not like Linkin Park.

The walk from Louis' house to the school was short, about 10 minutes, and he took pride in having only a single tardy in his whole record. Year 10, his little sister had broken a mug and cut her finger, Louis had to bandage it, which took about 15 minutes since Lottie complained dramatically of the pain every five seconds, and would not let Louis touch her finger, resisting for a good five minutes.

He also took pride in many other things, being in first-class honours, captain of the footie team, an, almost, guaranteed scholarship to a good university, and the love he received from everyone in his life. Truly, the golden boy. He never disappointed anyone. And Louis took pride in that.

Louis was never caught off guard, he didn't have weak moments, he was Louis fucking Tomlinson, he was hot, he was smart, he was _perfect_.

His blue eyes scanned the streets, as his feet accelerated a bit watching as the sky turned greyish, he knew the previous blueness of it was too good to be true. I hate the rain. And Louis truly did, the rain meant soggy everything, and soggy grass meant no footie practice and no footie practice meant an early arrival home to his five little sisters, whom he loved very much, but were a bit overwhelming after six hours of studying.

Louis could now see the college, brick walls, trees dancing in the wind, the place looked like a drawing, or maybe, a school you would read about in a fantasy Y/A novel. It, truly, would've been more beautiful without the hormone flooded teenagers weren't walking around the campus, horniness and BO radiating from each and every one of them.

There were, maybe, five people Louis liked in the school, ten that he could stand. He wasn't very big on people, most of them were annoying and superficial. But, at the end of the day, so was Louis, because he pretended to like every single one of them just so that his reputation would keep standing tall.

He gave a few smiles to some students who greeted Louis as he made his way into the tall building. Until he stopped in his tracks when he saw a head adorned by chocolate curls, tan skin following right after. Louis squinted his eyes trying to make out the person's face when he saw bright green eyes, so bright they put the stars to shame. Louis furrowed his brows in confusion, _that couldn't be_...

"Tommo!" Louis' blue eyes left the boy he was still stunted by and saw a smiling, caramel-haired boy.

"Payno!" Louis smiled back, hugging the boy in front of him. Liam Payne, one of the few people he liked at the school. "I have a question," Louis said, and Liam arched one of his eyebrows.

"We barely said hi, and you're already asking things?" Liam chuckled, but Louis' attention was on the green-eyed boy he had seen earlier.

"Is that Harry Styles?" Louis asked, eyebrows furrowed, pointing at the boy with his head.

"Shit! Yeah! I wouldn't have recognized him if you hadn't pointed him out." Liam laughed. "He changed so much! Wow!" Liam said, taken by the same surprise as Louis, whose doubts were confirmed.

Harry Styles had truly changed a lot since the last time he was seen in England. He had been studying with Louis since they were seven, they never really talked, mostly because Harry was the weird kid, he mostly spent his recess talking to the birds. Harry and Louis had only talked directly to each other once when they were ten, and Harry asked Louis if he had ever wanted to live in fairytales.

Harry had never really had any attention called to himself until they were in Year 10, and a rumour went around that he was gay, and had been with the English teacher who had just been fired a few days before. And of course, rumours spread like wildfire, and soon enough, Harry was getting so much shit from everyone, that he had to move to France. Or so Louis had heard. He never thought he would see Harry's face again, after hearing such awful names being yelled at the green-eyed boy. But there he was, leaning against the brick wall of the school. Though he wasn't sure Harry was even the same person, his face wasn't innocent and round anymore, it was long, a jawline so sharp it could possibly cut through stone, skin tan, his hair wasn't thrown to the right anymore, not so curly. He also had something about him, something inside Harry that no longer screamed "weird", or "innocent", he looked confident, smug, almost.

"Never thought I would see him again after, y'know..." Yeah, neither did Louis.

"Me neither, mate. Dunno why he's back to this hell hole if he had the option to be living in France," Louis commented, and Liam simply shrugged.

"Yeah" Liam threw an arm around Louis' shoulders. "Anyways, how was your summer?"

And, just like that, they moved on to a whole different conversation, both walking towards the inside of the building.

"Look who showed his face, _Faggy Harry_!" At the sound of the name, Louis' head quickly snapped back, looking for whoever had said it. There stood a tall, muscular boy, Beckett White, he was on the footie team as well, and Louis despised him, he never knew how to pass the ball, and was a dickhead 101% of the time. Beckett's eyes burned into Harry, who looked up nonchalantly from the book he was reading.

"Yeah, guess I got tired of all the french dick, had to get back to traditional English." Harry's response made Louis' eyes widen slightly, quiet, weird kid Harry would never say that. "Now, fuck off would you, you're almost making me straight just by standing there." There was something about his voice, a slight, sharp draw of the 'r', the hint of a french accent showing.

Louis' bit his bottom lip as he watched Beckett's face turn red in anger. This might be a boy named Harry Styles, but he was most definitely not the Harry that had left England a couple of years ago.

"You're going to hell," Beckett mumbled angrily, walking towards Harry so roughly Louis thought he was going to hit him, but, instead, Harry was just shoved by Beckett's large shoulders.

It was a weird sight, Harry almost seemed to not mind at all. Eyes at ease, hands bringing his book back up to his eyesight. Everyone who was on the outside campus was staring intently at Harry, taking in the aftertaste of his bitter response to Beckett's idiotic name-calling.

"What the fuck was that?" Liam manages to say, between a breathy chuckle of disbelief. Louis was still staring intently at Harry, observing his green eyes move across the book, nonchalantly, as if nothing had happened. His shoulders were slightly hunched forward, his back against the brick wall, one leg bent, foot propped up on it as well.

"Lads!" A roaring voice filled Louis' ears, and he felt a heavy arm fall around his shoulders, his. eyes averting from Harry to look at the blonde Irishman who had his weight thrown on Louis and Liam.

"Niall!" Liam's voice was cheery and he turned around to hug Niall, huge smiles on their faces, which made Louis' brows furrow. _Had they already forgotten what had just happened?_

"Did you not see what the fuck just happened?" Louis asks, turning to Niall completely.

"Huh?" Niall asks, clueless expression on his face. "Shit is that Harry Styles?" His voice comes out loud, and Louis elbows the Irishman in between his ribs.

"Ow! I'm just surprised he's back!" Louis shook his head in disbelief, letting an airy chuckle escape his lips, he turns around to look at Harry once more, but his hunched figure is no longer leaned against the wall, and the boy is nowhere to be seen. Louis has no idea why he is so upset by the lack of Harry's presence.

***

The first period flew by as Louis tried to ignore Liam bugging him from the desk behind his about how Linkin Park was absolutely amazing and how Louis just wasn't intellectually developed enough to understand the brilliance of it.

"Why the fuck would you choose to take higher-level French? It's stupidly unnecessary." Niall stretches out on his chair as soon as the bell rings.

"It is not stupidly unnecessary, learning new idioms keeps your brain fresh." Louis rolls his eyes as he picks up his books, throwing them into his backpack. The reason he was taking higher level french might also be because he was late to pick his classes and this one was the last one left with a spot. Problem is, he couldn't speak a word of french that left the range of 'bonjour' or 'baguette'. But he was not about to admit that.

"Just because you're a few months older than us, doesn't mean you're _old_. Your brain _is_ fresh." Liam got up from his seat and followed Louis out of the classroom.

"Well, when I am old, my brain will be fresh because I took higher-level French in year 13." Louis shrugged. He doubted that was the case, but then again, he would never lose an argument to anyone.

"You are annoying," Niall complains. "See you at lunch."

Louis waves to Liam and Niall as they take their own paths through the hallways. French was in the east wing of the building, where Louis barely spent any time in, so it was quite interesting to discover the small, stuffed room at the end of the hall, where a tall, blonde woman stood, glasses on the bridge of her nose and tall heels supporting her straight figure.

It was quite monotone, not much light reached the room, which made the grey walls pop out even more, against the green board that occupied the whole front wall of the room.

Louis took a moment to look around. And with his eyes wandering the room, he saw one Harry Styles in the corner of the room. Louis had always been an observer, loved to find the details, never missed anything, but at that exact moment, he was stunned. _Had Harry's eyes always been so breathtakingly green?_

His feet moved, as if they had a mind of their own, and sat his body right down next to the tan boy with the bright green eyes.

Harry had his eyes on a book Louis couldn't make out the title of and did not seem to notice Louis' presence next to him, even though, Harry's presence, was the only thing Louis could feel.

Louis was in awe. In awe of Harry's words. In awe of Harry's courage. In awe of Harry's eyes. In awe of Harry. Because that boy, that he had barely ever noticed before, because he always held his head low, stood there, with his chin held up high, nose pointed brightly at the sky, so carefully that it seemed as if Harry was trying to balance a pea on top of it.

" _Bonjour, classe, je suis Madame Hamon, bienvenue à Français higher level._ " The teacher's tone was completely still, but that was the only thing Louis could catch on to, except for the higher level, because her words seemed to mash up into a big cloud of nothing that seemed to rain over his head.

" _Je ne vais parles anglais dans ce cours, car nous sommes dans un niveau avancé, et cela ne sera pas nécessaire, donc si vous avez des doutes, retournez au premier niveau_." Louis was so _completely fucked_. His mark were impeccable, and if he got low grades in any of his subjects his average would go down. Why did he have to procrastinate and leave the subject picking to the last possible second?

" _Eh bien, je serai présent et vous pourrez vous présenter brièvement_." As the teacher started calling out names and the students would answer with a series of mumbled french words he could not understand, Louis' heart started beating faster. How the fuck was he supposed to say anything in a language he did not understand.

Louis was, however, agile enough to make out a pattern. The students would say _Je suis_ followed by what he made out as ages, and so, Louis prayed to whatever was up there, that he did not make a fool out of himself.

"Harry Styles." The teacher called out, and Louis' head snapped to his side, watching as a pair of green eyes slid away from a small book, and into the teacher's dark brown irises. The next words that left Harry's mouth were completely indecipherable, Louis blamed his fast speech, but in reality, his eyes were trained on Harry's cherry red lips that moved in such a smoothly quick way that it hypnotized Louis completely.

"Louis Tomlinson." Louis' whole body froze, fucking fuck. _Here we go._ "

Uhm... Well, I'm- _Je suis dix-huit et_.. Uhm... _je_ have _cinc_ sisters _et un_ brother..." Louis felt like his ears had never been redder and the burning eyes of Madame Hamon make his teeth grit. He had never been this bad at anything, and the moment the teacher passed on to the next student he promised himself he never would be again.

"Why are you taking advanced French if you can barely speak a single word of it?" The raspy voice startled Louis, and his eyes flew from the front of the class to Harry Styles, whose green eyes were now staring deep into Louis' blue ones.

"Uhm... It was the only thing available when I went to register." Louis was going to lie, come up with something on the spot, he was good at it, but for some reason, those hypnotising eyes made it impossible for him to do it. And he felt so angry at himself, because the way Louis looked stupid was remarkable, and the small snicker that came from Harry made him feel even worse.

"Well, I suppose, at least you will be learning something, it's been about ten minutes of class and I can already tell I'll be bored out of my mind." Harry clicks his pen once, sighing and throwing his head to the side, a few pops being heard from his neck.

"Oh, how terrible it must be to get an easy 100%" Louis shakes his head and watches at the slight eye roll Harry provides for him. "I enjoy learning much more than getting good grades." Harry shrugged and Louis took out a pen to take notes of whatever the teacher wrote on the board, even though he didn't understand any of them.

"Do you even understand what you're writing down?" Harry asked as if he could read Louis' mind. He couldn't, right? _Right?_ "For all you know she could just be writing how badly your French sucks."

"I doubt that," Louis answered, eyes still on the board, not daring to look at Harry. He felt something in his gut. It was fear. He was scared to look at a curly-haired boy who used to talk to butterflies. But he didn't talk to butterflies anymore, did he? No, definitely not, he had strong arms and sharp words now. _And Louis couldn't look at him_.

"How do you plan on passing this class if you can barely introduce yourself in French?" Louis didn't answer. Why was Harry talking to him? And why didn't he answer?

Harry seemed to understand that Louis wasn't going to answer him so he just turned his head towards the book propped on his lap once again. Louis had to slap him mentally a few times so that he wouldn't look to his side.

***

"I'm not contagious or anything, y'know?" Harry's voice was confident as he walked up to Louis in the hallway.

French class had been an absolute disaster. Louis' notebook was filled with notes that meant absolutely nothing to him because he did not understand a single word of them. Madame Hamon had also given him a piercing, despising, gaze as Louis left the class.

Louis didn't answer Harry, somehow he couldn't look at him directly until he was forced to when a large frame stopped right in front of him.

"I'm not going to bite you and spread a gay, rainbow, virus through your cells." Louis sighed.

"I know."

"Then why won't you look me in the eye?" Louis didn't answer, but Harry didn't look even slightly phased by the lack of response. "If you need any help with your French, I've been told I'm a pretty decent tutor." And Harry's voice, even with its raspy, confident tone, was coated in pure and innocent friendliness.

"I'm not going on a date with you." Fucking hell, why had Louis done that? Was he truly so afraid someone would see him talking to the gay kid? Was he really so afraid of a curly-headed boy with a shy french accent? Why the fuck had Louis said that? He hadn't even stated it with confidence. He just threw the words quietly, still not daring to look Harry in the eye.

"Oh, yes, because I was so romantically asking you out." This was when Louis finally stared up, being met by, big, angry, green eyes. And Louis wished he had kept his gaze on his feet "Jesus Christ." Harry's voice was sharper than ever, Louis couldn't spot any sort of softness, hurt, or weakness in it. Just simple, plain, anger. And then, Harry Styles was gone.

***

It was only later in the day when Louis finally got to rest. His jersey was soaked with sweat, his legs were completely strained out and his brain was littered with images of those angry green eyes.

Why did Louis have to make that statement so clear when Harry was only trying to help him? But what if Harry wasn't just trying to help him? What if Harry had second intentions? Louis was not gay. And that, Louis decided, was the end of him beating himself up for what he had said. Louis had merely made clear what his boundaries were, and he would not be sorry for that.

If only it were that simple, because, despite all his mental rules, his brain still kept projecting images of those angry green eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Louis' a dipshit at the beginning of this story, he gets better though, I promise.
> 
> Hope you liked this chapter!


End file.
